


Draco Malfoy and the Polyjuice Potion

by madeofbees



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Makes Things Needlessly Complicated, Draco Malfoy Being an Idiot, Draco being Draco, Fluff, Happy Ending, Harry is in a Literal Closet, M/M, Polyjuice Potion, Severus is Alive (but not super relevant), The Misuse of Polyjuice Potion, being sneaky, good times are had by all, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 13:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeofbees/pseuds/madeofbees
Summary: Draco fancies Harry and decides the only way to figure out if Harry fancies him back is to take Polyjuice Potion, impersonate him, and interrogate his friends.





	Draco Malfoy and the Polyjuice Potion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, it is me, RussianWolf7. I've updated my username to something actually relevant to my life! If you didn't know why you got an email about this, that's why :)
> 
> I've been sitting on this for a few weeks because of stress and illness and pain, but I finally got around to typing it up and posting it and yay! It's very silly but aren't all the best things?
> 
> Rated for language and brief mentions of private parts.
> 
> ETA: Now with edits!

Some, Draco Malfoy himself included, might have said his plan was overthought. Needlessly complicated, for instance, or outright unnecessary. Dramatic, even. But, as Draco Malfoy himself would tell you, he was all of those things. Except unnecessary, of course, but that went without saying.

The month that went into brewing the potion only gave him time to solidify his plan. Stealing the more obscure ingredients from Snape’s private stores firmed his resolve. Sneaking over to Potter’s potion station after class to look for messy, black hairs was—was not the highlight of his life, actually, but ultimately worth it.

The decision not to tell anyone was hard. On one hand, having Pansy at the very least on his side would have been encouraging. She had the best aspects of both girls and Slytherins: sneaky, conniving, and well-versed in reading people. She very well could have been useful, but the risk of someone accidentally catching Pansy Parkinson colluding with Harry fucking Potter was too high. And yes, Severus could have helped him brew the damned thing, or at least given him a station to brew on, but since the plan was so very, _very_ illegal, it wasn’t worth the risk. Again, Severus probably wouldn’t care, but even a chance of getting expelled was too much. Goyle found the entire concept of Harry Potter vaguely offensive, and Blaise just didn’t care.

Draco almost considered confiding in Granger before remembering how suicidal that was. Additionally, it would render the entire plan moot, and by then he was far too invested.

So really, going it alone was the only option.

Draco decided to put the plan into action on a Tuesday, between breakfast and Transfiguration. He’d have three classes to get used to his new…position before—enjoying, really?—a meal with his new (ugh) friends, and since Transfiguration was with Gryffindors, he and Potter would be leaving the Great Hall at the same time going to the same place, so there would be more time to get him alone and hex him.

Some, Draco Malfoy included, might think his plan sounded a little diabolical, but it was in service of the greater good. Besides, he was a Slytherin, so diabolical was written into his genes and couldn’t be avoided.

Or he didn’t want to avoid it, either one. It would be fine.

When Draco told his friends he needed to stop by the bathroom on the way to class, it sounded completely natural. At least almost completely natural. Using his hair as an excuse was fair enough, given how often he legitimately excused himself to make sure it was in order. If his voice was a little high pitched, no one seemed to notice.

Getting Potter alone was easier than anticipated. Granger and Weasley had apparently left something in the Great Hall, giving him the perfect opportunity. Taking a deep breath, feeling nervous for the first time (which was unreasonable and embarrassing for so many reasons), he quickly walked up to Potter and said,

“I need to talk to you.”

Potter turned around, a look of confusion and mild incredulity on his face. “Excuse me?”

Draco glared, because it was that or blush, and he would not be blushing. “Just come with me for a second, okay?”

Potter glanced around. They were the only two in the hallway, which was much more suspicious than Draco had anticipated. He was just about to panic, because it had only occurred to him now that this was literally the only part of his plan that didn’t have a plan b, which was obscenely stupid as it was also the part most likely to go wrong, when Potter let out a deep sigh and said,

“Okay, fine. Where are we going?”

Once again confident, Draco said, “Follow me,” and, banking on Potter not having an encyclopedic knowledge of the castle (which in retrospection also didn’t seem that smart), led him over to the broom closet he had decided on last week.

“Malfoy, what—”

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

Potter went stuff, falling back against the wall. Draco quickly opened the door to the closet and shuffled him inside before he could fall over, and closed them in.

“I know you won’t believe me, but this isn’t as bad as it seems,” Draco said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll explain later, I’m in a bit of a rush right now, but try to keep an open mind. Oh, and I’ll be needing this.” Trying very, very hard not to feel like he was undressing Harry fucking Potter (which may have been the entire point of all this, albeit not at this exact moment), he undid Potter’s tie and tucked it into his book bag. “I’ll be back by dinner, or maybe just after, depending on how things go. Before curfew, I promise.”

Draco looked at Harry, at his frozen fury, and sighed.

“Harry.”

It must have been a trick of the light, since Potter was incapable of moving, but Draco could’ve sworn he’d gotten through, at least a little. He didn’t think he’d ever called Potter by his first name before, and Potter would be just as aware of that as he was.

“I’m sorry. Really. But this is important. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

With a small nod, mostly to himself, Draco left, locking the door tightly behind himself.

His next stop was the first floor girl’s lavatory. Draco had already spoken to Myrtle about being elsewhere this morning, and she was out exploring the Black Lake, at least supposedly. He slipped into the third stall, the only one that hadn’t been damaged by his fight with Potter sixth year, and took out the flask.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, and took a swig of the emerald green potion.

His first thought was that it didn’t taste as bad as he’d expected.

His second thought was pain.

And his third thought, as predicted, was his hair. Except it wasn’t his hair, it was Potter’s, and it was an unruly mess, and he would _not_ run his fingers through it, because that would be weird. He also wouldn’t be undressing or doing anything untoward, a promise he had made himself several weeks ago when he realized he’d have full access to Potter’s body.

Besides, it wasn’t Potter’s body, not really. It was his own, Potter-shaped body, and it _was_ weird, even if he didn’t touch his hair. Impersonating his enemy-slash-huge-secret-crush in order to interrogate hisbest friends to figure out if his feelings were returned was maybe not the most normal thing to do.

But it was both very Slytherin and, theoretically (hopefully), very effective, and that was all that mattered.

Draco tied Potter’s Gryffindor tie around his own neck, feeling a lot more stupid than Slytherin.

 _Too late now_ , he thought, putting on a pair of enchanted glasses. He charmed his robes from Slytherin green to Gryffindor red (so much for being a Slytherin), and headed to the mirror to check himself.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that Harry Potter looked back at him, but somehow it was.

 _What have I done_ , Draco thought with a certain amount of resignation, and left the bathroom.

Walking straight into Pansy, Blaise, and Goyle.

“What are you doing in the girl’s room, Potty?” Pansy sneered.

“I always knew you were a little girl,” Goyle chuckled.

“Ew,” was Blaise’s only comment.

“Um, yup, that’s me, a little girl,” Draco said. He was disarmed by his voice, being that it wasn’t his voice, and that didn’t help. He thought he’d have a little more time before encountering any Slytherins, especially his friends. He cleared his throat. “I’m just going to go to class now…”

“As if I care,” Pansy said, already leaving.

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself instead?” Goyle added, and then they were gone.

“Wow,” Draco breathed. He’d been making a concentrated effort to be nicer to Potter this year, hexing him and locking him in a closet aside, for reasons that might not have been entirely altruistic, but he’d still been trying. His friends, evidently, had not. He’d have to have a word with them when everything went according to plan and today ended with Potter as his boyfriend.

When, not if.

Positive thinking.

—

Draco ran into Granger and Weasley outside McGonagall’s classroom.

“Hey guys,” he said, suddenly doubting everything. Was that how Potter greeted people? How did he talk again? Merlin, it was almost like he and Potter hadn’t spent the past seven years stalking each other.

And they were Hermione and Ron, he reminded himself, not Granger and Weasley.

“I’m so tired,” Ron moaned. “Why do morning classes even exist?”

Hermione sighed. “I’m not having this conversation again.”

“At least I wasn’t so busy studying one book that I left another in the Great Hall.”

Hermione furrowed her brows. “Arithmancy test tonight, I told you.”

“Ugh, I know, right?” Draco groaned. “You’re not even taking Arithmancy, Ron.”

Ron and Hermione both stared at him.

“Neither do you,” Ron said.

“Harry, you’ve been acting strangely all day,” Hermione said. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Draco’s head spun. Harry didn’t take Arithmancy, he knew that. Beginner mistake, the kind that would get him caught. But what exactly had Hermione meant about acting weird all day? He’d been watching Harry all breakfast, looking for any sign that today wasn’t the day, and hadn’t seen one. What had he missed?

“I know, but Hermione won’t stop talking about it, so,” Draco said quickly, almost hysterically. “But she’s right, I do feel off. ‘Mione, you better be my partner today, to keep an eye on me.” This _was_ part of his plan, to isolate Harry’s friends and interrogate them individually. Interrogate unsuspiciously, of course.

Hermione just sighed. “You’re not wrong. Come on, then.”

At least that went well, Draco thought with relief, following the Gryffindors into the classroom.

“Eight years and you’re still always late,” McGonagall said, pursing her lips. “And Mr Malfoy still missing. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that, too?”

“No, ma’am,” Draco said quickly.

“Hmm,” she said, sounding suspicious. “Take a seat and get out your wands. Today we’ll be focusing on conjuration.”

“You did have something to do with it, didn’t you?” Ron hissed. “That’s why you were late for breakfast!”

Draco had noticed Harry was late, but had no idea why. “Not me,” he whispered back. “He’s probably off doing something suspicious.” That’s what Harry thought he did, right? Suspicious things?

“Quiet, Mr Potter,” McGonagall snapped. “Unless you’re already capable of conjuring a silk scarf from thin air?”

“Actually, Professor…“ Draco pulled out his wand, which had a twelve hour glamour on it to turn it from hawthorn to holly. “I’ve been practicing.” With an elegant wave of his wand, a pure white silken handkerchief appeared out of nowhere, fluttering onto the desk in front of him.

There were a few beats of silence before she said, “Well done, but I’d still appreciate your silence during class.”

“How’d you do that?” Hermione whispered a minute later, once McGonagall’s attention was elsewhere. “We practiced for hours last night and you weren’t even close.”

“Came to me in my sleep,” Draco said blithely. How could Harry not know conjuration? Merlin, Draco had learned second year.

“Did you take Felix Felicis again?” Ron asked suspiciously

“No,” Draco said irritably, though perhaps it would’ve been a good idea. “I can be good at magic too, even if I’m not Hermione.” It was time to change the subject, and fast. “So where do you think Malfoy is anyway? It’s not like him to miss class.”

“I don’t know, but I’m not getting in trouble for talking in class,” Hermione hissed.

“Again,” Ron added.

Draco could live with knowing Harry had gotten in trouble on his account, and let it go.

For now.

—

Disaster nearly struck between Transfiguration and Charms. Draco was so involved in trying to get information and remembering who he was that he nearly forgot to take the second dose of Polyjuice Potion. The first jolt of pain in his stomach he passed off as nerves, but the second in his left foot made him realize what was happening. In a panic, he pulled the flask out of his inner pocket and took a deep gulp.

“What’s that?” Ron asked bluntly.

“Thirsty,” Draco said slowly, paying very close attention to his body, making sure he’d stopped changing back. “Pumpkin juice, I mean, because I’m thirsty.”

“Uh huh,” Hermione said, obviously suspicious. “You’ve never carried around juice before.”

“I guess I’m feeling extra clever today, then,” Draco said irritably, much more upset with himself than with Hermione. He held the flask out, feeling very stupid and very brave at the same time. “Why, do you want some?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Hermione said, and Ron echoed the sentiment.

“Then there’s nothing to talk about, is there?” Draco replied, tucking the flask back in his robes. “Let’s just get to class, alright?”

“The first clever thing you’ve said all day,” Hermione said, and they started walking to class again.

—

Draco was partnered with Ron, and he made sure to play down his abilities.

“I thought your mum was good at Charms,” Ron said, poking his wand at the candy cane, producing a brief spurt of glitter, but nothing lasting.

“Must’ve skipped a generation,” Draco said angrily. First too good, and now not good enough? He couldn’t catch a break. “The real question is, where’s Malfoy?”

Ron looked at him like he was daft. “Probably in his Slytherin class with his Slytherin housemates and not with us in a class with Hufflepuffs.”

Draco flushed. Right, obviously. He _had_ to step his game up. “I meant from earlier,” he said moodily.

“Merlin, Harry, I don’t know. You’re worse about him than usual. Not to sound like Hermione, but can you save your obsession for lunch? I need to get this right, Flitwick’s still mad at me about last week.”

Draco laughed nervously. Obsession, really? “Yeah, that was awesome,” he said, having no idea what he was talking about since, obviously, he didn’t have Charms with the Gryffindors.

Ron glared. “Yeah, setting the Charms room on fire, hilarious. Not even Seamus has managed that one.”

Draco snorted. “I know, it was impressive. Your brothers would be proud.”

Ron smiled slightly. “Yeah, true. George did owl me a spare dungbomb when Seamus complained to him.”

“Good haul,” Draco said, proud of himself. It was the details that made a Polyjuice impersonation successful. In a giving mood himself, he said, “Maybe if you try waving your wand more like this…” His candy cane started to glitter, and a moment later so did Ron’s.

“About time!”

—

It was between Charms and Herbology that Draco had to go to the bathroom. He told Ron and Hermione he’d meet them at the front doors, excused himself, and went to the nearest bathroom. It wasn’t until he was in front of the urinal and his hands (Harry’s hands) were at his zip (Harry’s zip) that he realized something very, very important.

He would see Harry’s cock.

He’d _touch_ Harry’s cock.

A rush of heat spread through him, and he closed his eyes. _Deep breaths_ , he told himself. _Deep breaths, and behaving responsibly. Everything is okay. You are okay. This means nothing. You have to take a piss, nothing more. Get on with it._

Resolutely thinking about Merlin’s hairy ballsack and absolutely _nothing else_ , he undid his zip and took out his (Harry’s) dick.

It was a fantastic dick. Not too long but quite thick, a bit red from needing to piss, and jumped slightly at his touch.

_Merlin’s. Hairy. Ballsack._

Draco made sure he was pointing in the right direction and closed his eyes because this wasn’t happening. This was far more an invasion of Harry’s privacy than anything else he’d done, and that was seriously saying something. Not to mention all of the things he’d rather be doing with it than urinating, but if all went well he’d be doing those things very soon, and this was not the time.

It took a while to get started, but once he did he finished as quickly as possible and put himself (Harry) away. He washed his hands, splashed some water on his face, and took another dose of Polyjuice.

 _Merlin’s hairy ballsack_ , he repeated to himself, and went down to meet Ron and Hermione.

—

Herbology was with Ravenclaws, not Slytherins, and Draco almost didn’t go.

“Maybe I should go looking for him,” he said as they walked to the greenhouses. “Malfoy, I mean. I don’t trust him.”

“No!” Ron gasped. “You, Harry Potter, don’t trust Draco Malfoy?”

“He probably just slept in,” Hermione said reasonably.

“He was at breakfast, remember?” Draco said. He hadn’t anticipated how strange it would be, pretending to stalk himself.

“Okay, so he’s bored of Transfiguration,” Ron replied. “Or maybe he just didn’t feel like going to class. Merlin knows you’ve skipped enough.”

“Have not,” Draco said defensively, glancing at Hermione, hoping he looked guilty and suspiciously unsuspicious. “And anyway, I was usually doing something I shouldn’t have been, right?” Educated guess, Draco figured. “So same goes for him.”

“As if skipping class isn’t bad enough,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Look, Harry, you need to relax. This is a lot, even for you. I’m sure he’ll be at lunch.”

“Doubt it,” Draco muttered, trying not to smirk. He would be at lunch, of course, it would be Potter missing the meal, but Ron and Hermione didn’t know that.

And besides, what did she mean by _a lot_ , exactly?

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, eh?” Ron said. “Or, you will, because we don’t care.”

“Let’s just try to get through one class without bringing him up and actually pay attention for once?” Hermione said.

Draco was about it say it wasn’t Herbology he was worried about, it was Arithmancy, before remembering he didn’t take Arithmancy, at least not today. This reminded him of the test he’d be missing, and how his already iffy grade would be in serious jeopardy, and sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Oh come on, Harry, it’s one class,” Ron groaned. “Surely you can go that long without talking about your precious Malfoy.”

“Shut up,” Draco snapped, covering his sudden upswing in mood. “He is not precious, Ron, Merlin.”

“You wouldn’t know it from the way you go on,” Ron grumbled.

“Class,” Hermione pleaded as they entered Greenhouse Three. “Focus. Please.”

Draco was more than happy to stop talking, as he was having a very hard time not grinning at Ron’s words.

—

Lunch was good, Draco was looking forward to lunch. He’d officially established himself as Harry Potter, gained the trust of his closest friends for the most part, gotten enough information to feel confident about his mission, and was ready for unstructured time with Ron and Hermione to get any and all details out of them regarding Harry’s feelings towards him. He’d even remembered to take the Polyjuice on time, and when Ron and Hermione were distracted packing up from class.

“He’s not here,” Draco said the second they walked into the Great Hall. “Pansy and—” _maybe don’t mention my friends by their first name, idiot_ , “—the rest of his friends, they’re already here, but he’s not.”

“Go ask them if you’re so curious,” Ron snapped.

“Shove it, your’e just pissy because you haven’t eaten yet,” Draco snapped back. Ron glared at him, but didn’t reply. “I can’t exactly waltz on over to the Slytherin table, now can I?”

“Don’t be mean,” Hermione admonished gently. “Even though, Harry, you sort of deserve it. I know you fancy him, but every other word out of your mouth today has been Malfoy.”

Draco felt like floating. Harry fancied him, he really did. Mission not only accomplished, but Harry actually _fancied_ him. Despite the months of planning and putting the plan into action, he hadn’t really believed Harry would fancy him. Even if it had been the answer he’d been hoping for, the deepest part of him might never be able to believe that Harry fucking Potter fancied him.

Especially because—and how was this only occurring to him now, how stupid _was_ he?—of this stunt. He’d hexed Harry, locked him in a closet all day, all so he could spy on him to learn his secrets. That was not the proper way to ask someone out. Not normal was one thing, but this might have been the single worst idea he’d ever had. Harry may have fancied him this morning, but he sure as hell wouldn’t now.

_What have I done?_

Hermione turned, having walked several feet since Draco stopped in his tracks.

“Are you alright?”

“I—”

Draco was saved from having to finish his sentence by Pansy, Goyle, and Blaise suddenly appearing before him, arms crossed, angry, and suspicious.

“Where’s Draco?” Pansy demanded.

“We were supposed to spend lunch studying, and yet no Draco,” Blaise accused.

Draco had forgotten about their study session the same way he’d forgotten the need for it.

“He’s been gone since this morning,” Goyle added.

“How should I know?” Draco sneered before remembering Potter didn’t sneer.

“Leave him alone,” Ron said. “He’s been with us all day, he hasn’t done anything.”

“Oh, like you’re so trustworthy,” Pansy scoffed.

“Stop it,” Hermione snapped. “This isn’t sixth year, we aren’t children. Even if you don’t care the war has ended, some of us have moved on.”

“Right, that’s why that one—” Blaise jerked his head at Draco, “—can’t stop staring at us all the time.”

Draco was seriously regretting not telling his friends at least part of his plan. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that they’d miss him, and as touched as he was, he didn’t know how to get out of this.

“Nice to see you all getting along,” Professor Sprout said, suddenly appearing beside them. “Embracing the spirit of inter-house unity in this most important of years.”

“Of course, Professor,” Hermione said quickly.

“We were just leaving,” Goyle said, manning to sound threatening and simpering at the same time.

“Good, good,” Sprout said. Enjoy the rest of your day, then.”

“We will,” Draco forced out.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Pansy hissed, “If we don’t see him by dinner, we’ll show you a real war.” She swept away, followed closely by Blaise and Goyle.

“Swear you didn’t have anything to do with his disappearance?” Hermione asked dangerously.

“Swear it,” Draco said, swallowing nervously. Fixing this had better not get in the way of convincing a frozen Harry he should still fancy him, and he wasn’t at all sure that was a task he could accomplish by dinnertime.

Draco was no longer excited for lunch. Lunch was something to survive before (carefully, privately, to avoid a repeat of the earlier near miss) letting the Polyjuice wear off, go to Arithmancy as himself (which he hadn’t planned for, facing Hermione before talking to Harry, but he simply couldn’t miss that test), and go explain to Harry why he should not only forgive Draco for today, but also go out with him.

Lunch, Draco decided, was stupid.

And so was he, if he was being perfectly honest.

“Come on, let’s just eat,” he said, trying not to sound too defeatist or, when reminding himself that Harry fancied him, too excited.

—

Draco left the Great Hall at exactly 12:30, complaining of a stomach ache. He didn’t think Ron or Hermione believed him, but by then it didn’t matter. He made it to Myrtle’s bathroom with time to spare, and spent the next seven minutes pacing anxiously, worried about being late to class, about his grade, about explaining to his real friends where he’d been, and, oh yes, worried about Harry fucking Potter.

Then there was the excruciating pain, and that centered him a little. Enough to remember to end the glamour on his wand, and to change his colors back to their proper green and silver. Harry’s tie went back in his bag. He spent a few minutes he didn’t have in front of the mirror fixing his hair, and left.

Walking straight into Hermione.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

“I’m more interested in why your’e coming out of the girl’s room with a Gryffindor tie peeking out of your bag,” she replied, eyebrows raised.

Draco panicked. He shoved the tie further into his bag and pushed past her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your mysterious disappearance coinciding with Harry acting so strangely,” she said, falling into step beside him. “Mastering the spell he was hopeless at not twelve hours ago.”

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Draco sniffed. “I wasn’t even in Transfiguration today.”

“Then how did you know that was what I was talking about?” Hermione accused, whirling to face him.

He froze. There had to be a rational explanation for him knowing that. “It’s the only class we have together,” he said, somewhat hysterically.

“That makes no sense,” Hermione stated. “And did you really think I didn’t see you sneaking out that flask every hour? Look. I have no idea why you were pretending to be Harry, but I kept an eye on you all day, and all you seemed to be interested in was yourself, which is rather sad, but ultimately harmless. Unless, of course, you were trying to figure out if Harry fancies you, as that was what you were _actually_ talking about, and only shut up when I blatantly told you he did. For all you know, I was lying to test you, since there’s literally no reason why I should trust you, ever, especially after a stunt like this.”

Draco felt himself shrinking under her glare. “I don’t like him,” he said, almost out of habit.

He had never seen her look so confused or so incredulous.

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard, and the poorest job of telling one.” She sighed, crossing her arms. “You’re an idiot and I have no idea how you plan on explaining this to him—or even where he is, but I assume he’s uninjured—”

“He is,” Draco interrupted. “Uninjured, I mean. He’s fine.”

“Right. I figured. Anyway, you’re horrible at this, so just go ask him out and stop being so incredibly dumb.”

“I can’t, I have a test,” Draco snapped.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Shit, we’re going to be late.”

“I know, because of you,” Draco sneered, walking again. “God, you’re so infuriating.”

“Says the man who’s so insecure he had to use Polyjuice Potion to interrogate his crush’s friends to find out if he liked him,” she shot back.

“Shut up,” he snapped. “How do you even have friends?”

“By being a decent person!” she exclaimed. “One who you should be nice time, since you’ll soon be dating my best friend.”

“Shut up,” Draco repeated. There were a few moments of silence, and then he asked, “Really?”

Hermione groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, Draco!”

“Sorry,” he muttered.

The rest of the walk was silent and just so incredibly awkward. Reaching class had never been such a relief, at least until Blaise started talking when Draco sat next to him.

“Where have you been?” he asked immediately. “And why were you with _her_?”

“I have no idea,” Draco muttered. “And I was studying.”

“Then why did you skip study group?”

“Because I didn’t want to see your stupid face,” he snapped, sounding rather stupid himself.

Thankfully, Professor Vector arrived, and all conversation stopped.

“Silence. Books away, quills and parchment out. You have a half hour. Questions are on the board.”

Suddenly Draco was not so happy about Vector, and would have been happy to have been grilled by Blaise as long as he didn’t have to take this test.

 _Fuck Arithmancy_.

—

Unfortunately, after class he had to go explain things to Harry, and that wasn’t terribly appealing, either. He couldn’t decide if Hermione had been trying to get back at him for—well, for so many reasons, but today in particular—or if she was telling the truth and Harry really did fancy him. By the time he arrived at the broom closet, he had never been less sure of anything, except for maybe what to say next.

Then he was struck by the oddly persuasive idea that Harry had somehow gotten free and escaped and, however irrational, it spurred him into action. He swung the door open, fully expecting the closet to be empty, and was greeted by a frozen Harry Potter, exactly where he’d left him. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Draco stepped into the closet and closed the door.

“I’m sure you must hate me by now, but let me explain, okay?” Harry didn’t respond, of course, and Draco closed his eyes, leaning back against the door. This was a train wreck, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was the one driving the train, and still couldn’t do anything but sit back and watch it crash.

 _Might as well go out with a bang_ , he thought miserably, and opened his eyes.

“I took Polyjuice this morning and became you so I could spend the day with your friends and get them to tell me if you fancy me,” he said all in one breath. The frozen Harry still didn’t say anything, but Draco thought he could see a look of incredulity in his eyes. Maybe. It was enough to make him continue. “Admittedly, this plan makes me a tremendous coward and painfully Slytherin, as well as possibly landing me in Azkaban, or even expelled, but what’s done is done. My reconnaissance was successful, at least to an extent, and I had come to the belief that, at the very least, you’re pathetically obsessed with me when Hermione—Granger, rather, I’ve spent the day as you, it was quite confusing—came out and said that you do. Fancy me. But it turns out she knew you were me—or I was you? Like I said, it’s been confusing—and she accosted me, making all sorts of accusations, and suggesting that she may have lied just to get revenge on me. However, Ron never denied her initial declaration, and everything else I learned over the course of the day seems to support that conclusion. So.” He took a deep breath, and locked eyes with Harry, searching for any sort of answer. There wasn’t one, of course, because he was still frozen. “I’m going to unfreeze you now. Please don’t hex me. _Finite Incantatum_.”

Harry stumbled, gasping, one hand steadying himself against the wall, the other going to his wand. Draco had anticipated this and thought about confiscating it, but had ultimately decided it would only anger Harry further.

“Please,” Draco repeated, nearly begging, and Harry looked at him in astonishment.

“ _Hex_ you? You should be lucky I don’t kill you! What the fuck made you think this was a good idea?”

“Severus told me about what you, Hermione, and Weasley did second year,” Draco replied, only a little sheepishly. “Everyone knew Granger had somehow transfigured herself into a cat, but last summer as he was recuperating, we talked a lot about old times—the good times, before everything went to hell, and he told me the full story.”

“I didn’t even know Snape knew the whole story,” Harry said, momentarily distracted. “How’d he find out?”

Draco shrugged. “The professors knew about Hermione’s specifics, and he was the one sent to Myrtle’s bathroom to clean up the mess. That, combined with the ingredients that had been stolen from his stores, made it clear three people were involved, and who else but you two? Once he told me that you’d taken it, it was obvious what you’d done.”

“Right, I suppose.” There was a pause, and then Harry’s eyes were blazing again. “You impersonated me! All day! What did you make me do? How many points has Gryffindor lost? Who’ve I got detention with? Is there anything else I’ve missed?”

“Actually, I got you in McGonagall’s good graces, taught Ron the shimmering charm for Flitwick, and kept in line all day,” Draco replied snippily. “My goal was to fit in, not stand out.”

“So you could find out my secrets,” Harry confirmed, and Draco looked away. “You couldn’t have, I dunno, _asked_ me if I fancy you? And since when do you care, anyway?”

“Obviously not,” Draco said irritably, ignoring his second question. “Can you imagine how that would’ve gone?”

“Something like this, only I’d be a lot less pissed,” Harry said, and it looked like he was warring between anger and amusement, and maybe a hint of worry. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why do you think?” Draco asked, and his voice sounded like shattered glass. So very, very nervous, knowing it couldn’t end well. “Why else would I go through all the trouble?”

“Because—because you fancy me,“ Harry said slowly, a flush starting to creep up his neck. “You do, right?”

“Obviously,” Draco snapped. “And you fancy me, too?” It came out like a question, which wasn’t at all intentional.

“Merlin, you’re such a tosser,” Harry muttered under his breath. “You really couldn’t have asked me on a date? To go to Hogsmeade with you next weekend? You had to do this, make me hate you all over again.”

“Um.” Draco didn’t have a proper response beyond what he’d already said. “Yes.” He was more confused than ever about whether his feelings were returned, and he thought he might throw up.

“It’s a good thing I do fancy you, otherwise I’d definitely punch you,” Harry said, and before Draco could come to terms with it Harry was on him, grabbing his face, kissing him senseless. Draco gasped, one hand going to Harry’s waist, the other fisting in the hair he was finally allowed to touch, and kissed him back. Or tried to; it only lasted a moment before Harry jerked away, and then a fist was flying at his face, and his cheek exploded in pain.

“Ow! Salazar Merlin fuck, what the hell!” Draco yelled, cradling his face. “What the fuck was that for?”

“So much,” Harry said, but he was grinning. “Just so much, Malfoy. And yes, I’ll go out with you.”

“You better, after that,” Draco said, almost angry but instead farther from it than he’d ever been. “After all the work I put in, and then you fucking punched me for it.”

“Yeah, that was your idiocy, not mine,” Harry replied easily, leaning back against the wall and looking on in amusement as Draco tended to his face. “How’d you even make the potion? What bit of me did you take?”

“A few hairs after class,” Draco said, and it was starting to sink in that Harry, Harry fucking Potter, fancied him, that they were going out, that they’d kissed. “You could’ve asked me out too, y’know. It goes both ways.”

“I could’ve,” Harry agreed, “but then I wouldn’t have gotten in that punch, now would I?”

Draco glared at him. “I’m serious. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re not exactly an open book,” Harry said, and he seemed a little nervous. “I hadn’t a clue how you felt, and I’ve never been great at dating. I was waiting for—a sign, I guess, I dunno.”

Draco scoffed. “And when you get one, you punch it in the face.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I thought we were being serious. You never said why you couldn’t ask me, either.”

“Because I didn’t know what you’d say,” Draco replied honestly. “I couldn’t risk it, not with you. You’re, ah.” He cleared his throat. “You’re too important, you wanker.”

And then Harry was there again, really there, resting a hand on the uninjured side of his face. “All you had to do was say that,” he said softly. “Even if I didn’t feel the same, I never would’ve made fun of you.”

“Yeah, well.” Draco didn’t know how to respond; everything seemed too much and not enough, and he still hadn’t apologized for today. Instead, he kissed Harry, basking in how soft his lips were, how he could do this whenever he wanted. Harry hummed quietly, kissing him back, and all the pain faded away, stunningly insignificant in the face of this one moment.

“I’ve fancied you for years,” Harry said quietly, almost whispering. “And I’ve loved you since the end of the war.”

Draco’s entire body seemed to sigh in relief. “I’ve loved you since I can remember,” he said just as quietly. “Hated you, loved you, stalked you, tortured you, all of it. I’m sorry about today, and everything else; you deserve so much more than me.”

Harry snorted. “You said yourself I used Polyjuice second year, and my motives were a lot more sinister. Forget it, alright? It doesn’t matter.” He leaned their foreheads together, and Draco sighed happily. “We’ve found each other, finally, no matter how we got here.”

“You’re obnoxiously perfect,” Draco muttered, earning himself a puff of stifled laughter from Harry. “But yeah, whatever. It’s done.” He nosed Harry’s cheek, and Harry turned for a kiss Draco didn’t give. “Go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday?”

Harry grinned, and stole a kiss. “I’d love to, tosser.”

“Wanker,” Draco returned, and went back to kissing Harry. He’d gone through way too much to get here, he wasn’t about to stop now.


End file.
